At a Glance
by kyla8
Summary: Ella wants to know more about her father...more than just the same stories told....


Ella came out of her sixth grade class more than a little troubled. She walked towards her locker thinking about the words her English teacher her written on her report. You could have done better. Next time write with feeling.  
  
It wasn't that a C+ on the paper was bad. True, Ella was used to getting straight A's, but the unusually low mark wasn't what bothered her. "How dare he say that I don't write with feeling," she thought. "After all, I was writing about my own father. Who writes about their dead father without feeling?"  
  
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. "The nerve of him!" she said aloud, turning on her heels three feet from her locker and marching back to her classroom. Despite the wave of students headed in the opposite direction, she reached the classroom quickly. Mr. Angelo was still putting away his papers.  
  
"Could you explain to me why you gave my paper a C?" she blurted out, not bothering to be polite.  
  
Mr. Angelo did not seem bothered by her angry tone. Instead he looked up at her with tired eyes. "I wrote comments on all of the papers, Ella." He sighed, seeing that she was not leaving without further explanation. "Your writing was not as good as it normally is, and there was absolutely no feeling in your paper. You could have been writing about the janitor for all I know. Without the use of the word father, no one would even know that Dr Mark Greene was related to you."  
  
"How dare you say that I have no feelings for my father!" she exploded. "I'd give anything to know him!!" She felt tears rising to her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of this horrible man. Funny, how he used to be one of her favorite teachers. Now she had lost all respect for him. She swallowed, and waited for him to apologize for his insensitivity, as she very well thought he should do.  
  
Mr. Angelo rose from his chair. "I know that you loved him very much, Ella. Don't get upset. I'm saying that you didn't say so in your paper. I know that if you had put the feeling into this paper that you do in all of your other papers, the paper would have been much more interesting. And the writing would have been better, too. You didn't say anything to make your father seem like the admirable person I know he was. "He paused.  
  
Ella looked at him in disbelief. "Did you even read my paper? 'Cuz its sounding like you didn't—like you just decided, lets give Ella a C today, she hasn't had one of those all year! Tell me," she said hotly," did you read it?"  
  
"Did you?" he said softly. They looked at each other for a moment. "Ella, go home and reread your paper. Read it as someone who doesn't know your father."  
  
"I don't know my father," she said quietly. She felt tears stinging her eyes again, threatening to fall this time. "He's dead. Or didn't you get that from my paper."  
  
"I know that, Ella. And I'm sorry you didn't get to know him. But, I'm sure there's much more to him than when he was born, when he died and his occupation. There's more to him than just the facts, and I'm sure you know that. I'm sure there's a lot more about him that you wanted to find out. Think about it, and when you're ready, go ask questions. It may be hard to ask and even harder to get answers, but its something you'll wonder about if you don't do it." He paused and glanced at the clock mounted above his head. "I have a staff meeting to get to. I will see you on Monday. Have a nice weekend." He started gathering his things and headed for the door.  
  
Ella watched him exit, thinking about what he said. Then a thought came across her mind. "Mr. Angelo," she called after him. He peered around the corner, eyebrows raised. "Does this mean that you want me to write the paper over again?"  
  
"I usually don't allow rewrites, Ella. You know that. Telling you to learn more about your father was for your benefit. I can tell that there's more you want to know, and didn't ask." He stepped back into the room. "Every year I have one student who chooses a relative for their "admiration" paper, usually someone they don't know well but would like to. This paper gives them the push they need to ask questions." He glanced at the clock again. "Don't worry about the grade, Ella. With all of your A's, one C wont matter much."  
  
Ella walked slowly down the corridor, empty now, for all the kids had already left for the weekend. What Mr. Angelo had said was true; she had used this assignment as a push to ask more questions about her dad. It wasn't that she didn't ask questions about her father, nor was it that her mom and sister would not talk about him. On the contrary, they answered any question that she had. It was the look on their faces when she did ask that halted her string of questions that always seemed to be never ending in her mind. The sadness that showed, she knew, was only a fraction of what they were actually feeling. She knew it paralleled her own sadness and longing for him, which was so deep, sometimes she could barely stand it.  
  
"Where've you been?" Mia asked. "I was just about to leave you. Mom and I thought we'd gotten our days mixed up and that your mom had picked you up today."  
  
"Talking to Mr. Angelo about my paper. He gave me a C,"  
  
"Oh, so that's why you look so glum,"  
  
Ella nodded, not really wanting to explain that her grade was not at all what she was concerned about. She opened her locker and gathered the books that she would need over the weekend. She was dreading going over to Mia's house, even though she was her best friend. What she really wanted right now was to be alone. Sooner or later Mia would realize that it was not the C that was bothering her, and she'd have to talk about it. But perhaps she had enough homework to keep her busy until her mom finished her shift at the hospital.  
  
Ella added another sheet of paper to her pile and sighed. Only three more math problems to go, se thought. And that was a good thing, too, because she was running out of paper. She was lying on her stomach on the floor, her favorite place to do her homework because it allowed her to spread out all of her books. The only problem was that today Mia's kitten decided that she was a toy. She thought he had tired of her, because he finally stopped bouncing on her back, but as soon as she started this math problem, she realized that her pencil had suddenly attracted his attention. He pounced.  
  
"Get Off!" she cried, pushing him away. She glared at him, but he was not at all discouraged by this. Finally, she sighed and put down her pencil.  
  
"Serves you right," Mia said, looking up from the teen magazine that she was reading. "Doing homework on a Friday night. Even you don't do that." She stared at Ella curiously, and was about to say something when her mother popped her head into the room.  
  
"Ella, you mother just pulled up," she said. "Maria! This room is a mess. You'd better clean it up by tomorrow morning or else..." She trailed off, leaving the threat unfinished, but Ella knew that Mia knew the or else part. Pushing the persistent cat, now completely occupied with the unmanned pencil, off of her math homework, she gathered her books and went downstairs to greet her mother. Mia followed.  
  
Dr Corday looked tired. "Good day, mom?" Ella asked, as she always did.  
  
"Well, yes, until this last man. Crashed on the table as I tried to repair what seemed like a zillion holes...gun shots," she added when Mia looked at her confused. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Yes," said Ella. They all said their goodbyes and the mother-daughter pair climbed into Corday's van to go home.  
  
"So I was thinking that we'd have a girls night. We could stop by Blockbuster on the way home and get some videos," Corday said hopefully. Ella still wanted to be alone.  
  
"Not tonight, I think I'm gonna read a little and then go to bed."  
  
Corday looked disappointed, as she always did when she could not spend time with her daughter. "Ok then, some other time." She said, turning off the busy road and into the quiet neighborhood in which they lived.  
  
A few minutes later, Ella shut the door to her room and dropped onto her bed. She had so much to think about: what questions to ask, who to ask, and most importantly, what she wanted to know. Well, that last thing was easy; she wanted to know everything she could know about her father, but she couldn't exactly go up to someone and say tell me everything you know about Mark Greene. That would not get her anywhere. She thought for a while longer, and then decided to start from where she left off: her paper. She pulled it out of her book bag. Reading through it, carefully, she picked out questions to start with. Although she didn't want to admit it, her paper was a bit vague, and by reading it, it was clear how little she actually knew about her father. Well, not for much longer. She reached over, picked up the phone and began dialing. 


End file.
